Cell's Seriously MessedUp Dream
by Arzosah
Summary: Part 2 of a triad. First it was Vegeta having a bizare dream, and now it's Cell's turn. Contains swearing and disturbing mental images. Please read and review.


Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or Microsoft.

AN: This is a companion-piece to Vegeta's Seriously Messed-Up Dream, but they don't have to be read together. Enjoy.

And if you're wondering why Cell is dreaming of people he's never met, bear in mind that he has mentioned several times in the anime that he inherited the memories of his 'fathers'.

Cell's Seriously Messed-Up Dream

Cell pushed aside the streamers of brightly colored toilet paper draped across the doorway to walk into the bar. He wasn't sure why he was there, but somehow his being there felt natural to him. The bar was crowded and noisy, all of its patrons too engrossed in their own conversations to notice him. At any other time that would have bothered him, but right now he didn't care.

Cell coolly walked over to the bar at the far wall, calmly stepping over what looked like an extremely drunk Android 16, before doing a double-take.

"How the hell can you be drunk?!" he incredulously asked the android on the floor. "You're purely mechanical!"

"This—program—has—performed—an—illegal—operation—and—will—be—shut—down," came the flat, monotone reply.

"I'll say you've performed an illegal operation! How much did you have to drink?!" He didn't even pause to wonder why he was trying to make conversation with a clearly malfunctioning android.

"This—program—has—performed—an—illegal—operation—and—will—be—shut—down," again, the flat, monotone reply. Cell just sighed, shook his head and moved onwards towards his original destination.

"So that's what happens when robots get drunk…" he muttered as he sat up on a bar stool. "I'm glad I can't be installed with Microsoft."

The bartender approached him, and Cell was forced to do another double-take: since when was Piccolo a bartender?

"About time you showed up," the Namek said calmly, pouring an electric blue liquid into a glass before pushing it towards Cell. "Here, have a drink on the house."

Cell looked down at the drink before him, and then looked back up at Piccolo, who just smirked and moved on to the next customer. After blinking a few times at the brightly colored fluid, the chimera shrugged and took a sip. How the hell did an electric blue drink taste like iron-based blood?

A bit of giggling next to him drew Cell's attention. He turned to look, and his eyes instantly went wide at the sight of a strangely familiar looking woman flashing him. With a sharp yelp of shock at her nearness, he recoiled as though struck. He could have sworn he'd absorbed her. When she didn't seem to get the response she was looking for, the woman frowned sadly, and then tried again.

"She wants your Mardi Gras beads," Piccolo the bartender clarified from where he was at the other end of the bar.

"But I don't have any Mardi Gras beads," Cell protested, his hand moving to his neck, only to discover that he did, in fact, have some. "Oh… I guess I do…"

Hoping that would be all it took to make the weird woman leave him alone, Cell took off one string of the brightly colored beads and threw them at her. She happily took them and skipped off. Once she was out of sight, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. Only to suck in a sharp breath when he realized that there was another woman he'd absorbed standing at his other side, smiling and flashing him. Panicking, he threw her two of the necklaces, which she took just as happily as the first woman.

"Why me?" he mumbled as he banged his crested forehead on the bar in front of him, leaving a small dent. Sensing someone else standing next to him, he cracked open one eye to look, dreading what would be there. He groaned when recognition came with a name from a memory from one of his 'fathers'.

"Go away, Dodoria, no one wants to see your man-boobs," he bit out, looking away from the new flasher in disgust.

"But, but…" Frieza's pink former henchman stuttered, disappointment apparent in his oddly resonating voice.

"I said go away!" Cell roared, blindly firing an energy blast at Dodoria. He didn't bother to check what became of the fat sycophant, just taking a deep gulp of that blue, blood-tasting drink in front of him.

A clenching, biting feeling in his gut region told Cell that he needed some sort of nourishment. This puzzled him because he hadn't felt this sensation since he'd become perfect. Maybe it was because of the alcohol he was drinking. He figured his best bet would be to just absorb one of the overly drunk patrons and hope no one minded, but then he realized that he was no longer equipped for feeding like that. He'd just have to do it the old fashioned way. He glanced around the bar, but something seemed to be missing from the counter.

"Where are the peanuts?" he asked, still looking around for the snack bowls he knew should have been there.

"We don't have peanuts, anymore," Piccolo replied from down the bar. "Too many people with nut allergies. Instead we have live rats."

As if on cue, a swarm of fat rats stampeded across the counter. Cell gaped in confusion for a minute, before shrugging and grabbing one of the rodents. This wouldn't have been the first time he'd resorted to eating vermin (or maybe that was one of his 'fathers' again). He calmly bit off its head and started chewing. It actually didn't taste all that bad.

As he ate the last of his rat, a commotion behind him caught Cell's attention. Wondering what could possible be happening that was so distressing (almost dreading it actually, with the day's track record for disturbing happenings), he washed down his snack with that strange blue drink and turned to look. There in one of the booths sat a pack of Saiyans in drag—no, wait a minute, those were kilts they were wearing, not skirts—cheering as one of them, Goku by the look of him, staggered drunkenly onto the table. Once he was up he threw his arms wide, looking as if he was about to give a speech.

"I had a dream…" Oh, looked like he _was_ giving a speech. "That all free parakeets will be able to consume ho-hoes and continental airlines!"

Cell blinked; that had to be the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. It seemed to make sense to the Saiyans however, because they applauded him. Just as the chimera was turning back to the bar, someone else, it sounded like Nappa, called out a response.

"I had a dream that I was eating a book and it tasted like purple!" Unable to deal with any more absurdity, Cell leapt off the bar stool and searched franticly for a way out. But now everybody was staring at him.

'Don't panic, don't look like you're running away, don't look like you're running away!' he thought to himself, eyes still seeking a quick exit, short of screwing his cool, confidant image by simply flying through the ceiling. An idea came suddenly.

"Where's the bathroom?" he asked quickly; a little too quickly. And a little too loudly, too.

"Straight back and to the left," Piccolo answered without looking up from the acid green drink he was pouring for a bear in a belly-dancer outfit. Ignoring the weird sight, Cell hurried to follow his directions. To his relief, they'd all stopped staring by the time he reached the bathroom door. Hopefully there'd be a window inside that he'd be able to escape through.

But what he saw beyond the door was by far more horrifying than anything he'd already seen in this weird bar: the 'bathroom' was little more than a room with a hole in the floor for the toilet, around which Krillin, Yamcha and Tien were all standing and taking a piss together.

"Oh, hey, Cell, how's it going?" Krillin cheerfully greeted him with a quick wave.

"Come on in, don't be shy, there's plenty of room here," Tien added, also cheerful and waving. Cell declined to reply, instead slamming the door shut and spinning around away from it. Only to find himself facing down Frieza, who was definitely trying to invade his personal space.

"Hey there, Sexy, give me a kiss!" And before Cell could react, the pallor tyrant had grabbed his face and proceeded to make him do just that.

Cell woke up with a start, sucking in a sharp breath, his entire body stiffening. He glanced around; still in his arena, night fading into dawn. He let out a relieved sigh, before raising his hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Note to self: REM-sleep equals bad."

AN2: I myself have never had an 'inadequate bathroom' dream, but both of my parents have, so I figured I'd include it.


End file.
